Let Me Be
by whoosh19
Summary: "Getting out of the rain and into the confines of my apartment was an extreme necessity... then she came." Slight UlquiHime if you squint and stare hard enough lol. Story most likely will be continued.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, it's time for a new storyy! I randomly thought this one up when I was bored yesterday. Don't know if it'll be a chapter-story yet, which is the reason for the random title. I'll probably make it a series; I don't like stopping it where it is.  
>Secondly! Forgive me if [AKA WHEN] you notice the errors when it comes to the cultures in this story! I'm not good with that kind of stuff, but I needed that for the story to "floww" ;D (I'm talking about the English and French differences) If someone would like to help me out with those, THAT WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED! lmaoo.<strong>

**Lastly, try to enjoy this one, it sounded nice in my head, but idk if it's the same on the computer ;P**

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><p>It was that rainy afternoon that initiated everything.<p>

I was at the trolley stop. Drops of heavy water tapped on the cover of the small station. My black hair was matted to my forehead, which was a very unpleasant feeling. Getting out of the rain and into the confines of my apartment was an extreme necessity.

Then she came.

The woman was humming to herself as she approached the trolley stop, her head bobbing to her voice's soft tune. Without a struggle, she closed her umbrella and sat comfortably on the bench. I made sure to not even acknowledge her from my standing position, for she looked like one to talk excessively and I really was not in the mood for such behavior.

The first thing I noted about her was her vibrant hair. Could anybody's head sprout such bright locks? The vivid orange was so out of place. It was an overcast day, just like every other day in this town. She didn't belong here.

When she opened her mouth and a question escaped her lips, I realized that she literally _didn't belong here_.

"Oh my, what time will the bus arrive?"

The words were coated in a thick French accent.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The bus?"

"You mean the trolley?" I clarified.

"Ah yes, I apologize; I am from out of country," she explained timidly, light red coating her cheeks.

"The trolley, when will it arrive?"

"In four or five minutes, I believe," I replied.

"I see."

She was silent for a while, and I turned back around to stare dully at the raindrops racing across the station's plastic panes.

"How far is 'Arrington Court, sir?"

Once again, I directed my attention to the strange French woman.

"Harrington Court," I subconsciously corrected, "is about fifteen minutes from here. The trolley will most likely get there in six or seven stops."

"Thank you." She gave me a warm smile. "You are from around here?"

"More or less," I answered with a sigh.

"Oh. I just moved here actually. From Paris."

"I see. Welcome to Bellingham, Northumberland, ma'am," I greeted.

She giggled. "Thank you. I'm Orihime Inoue, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Ulquiorra Schiffer."

I bowed politely before turning my attention away from her.

I had never believed people when they said French natives were friendly, yet extremely chatty.

"Schiffer? Are you fully English?"

I closed my eyes to suppress the urge to smirk. Obviously I was learning quite a lesson that afternoon.

"No, I am mostly Italian, ma'am."

"Italian? Why, that's pleasant, isn't it?" Her eyes lit up. "Italy… I should visit there one day. You look like the travelling type, I may say, Mr. Schiffer."

"Business trips carry me abroad, that is all," I replied.

The trolley came winding down the track at that moment.

"Ah, well… still! Your body language shows that you have been exposed to the world!" she cried, rising from the bench.

I quickly entered the trolley the second it halted at the station, swiping my card in the designated slot before finding a seat.

The Frenchwoman followed suit, plopping herself right next to me.

"Have you any children?"

I twisted my head to gaze at her incredulously.

"I'm sorry?"

"Children, Mr. Schiffer, have you any?"

I simply stared.

"…N-no, I don't."

She looked as if she was pondering on my answer before shrugging and turning away, mumbling to herself.

I couldn't bring myself to ask her to repeat herself, because frankly, I didn't really have an interest in it.

There was silence for a couple of minutes. I gazed out of the trolley window, observing the rain that had subsided a little.

"So, uh, Harrington Court is a few minutes away?"

Street signs and family-owned businesses filled my conscious awareness as I estimated where we were.

"It should be in two stops, actually," I told her.

She nodded, facing the front of the vehicle and humming to herself once again.

When her stop came, she dramatically stood up as if she was in a hurry.

"It was nice talking to you, Mr. Schiffer! I hate to leave so soon! Good-bye!"

And she rushed off the trolley.

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><p><strong>What do you think? Aah, aah, that's what the review button is for ;D<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, hey, hey! I feel like I haven't been on in ages! I wrote this during exam week, most boring week of my life. At least we go home right after exams :D  
>Uhm, if there are errors, sorry, i typed this up pretty late lol.<br>I'M STILL ASKING FOR HELP! If you know vast differences between the English and French, help me out :)) I'll love you forever :D

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><p>I had no idea I would see her again.<p>

My latest poem had been completed, so I took a walk to the nearest book shop. The bell jingled lightly when I pulled the door open. The cashier looked up immediately, squinting at me for a second before breaking into a smile.

"Finished already?" she taunted. I did not acknowledge her statement; instead, I swiftly sauntered over to the counter, sliding a black notebook to her.

"What page?"

"Thirty-eight."

Lisa Yadomaru shook her head.

"Thirty-eight, already? My, my, my, what a busy man," she teased, flipping to the page.

It took her five minutes to analyze the poem. She read it over, once, twice, thrice. Finally, she closed the notebook softly, her eyes lifting to look at mine.

"It's… very nice. It's well-written, and it flows elegantly. Are you… are you going to publish this one on your website…?"

"I don't think so."

"You should. You should publish all of them." Lisa slid the notebook back across the counter. "I'm serious."

"I will consider it," I told her. "Nevertheless, thank you for spending the time to read it."

"It's not a problem, Ulquiorra," she assured with a smile.

I hadn't reached for the notebook off the desk yet before she walked in.

She was wearing a bright sundress with a matching beach hat, looking—once again—out of place.

Her eyes met mine, and for a second, she flinched at my gaze, but then she recognized who she was staring at.

"My, if it isn't Mr. Schiffer!" she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening in delight. "How have you been? My goodness, it's been two months since the day we met!"

I sighed as she rambled on and on, sometimes giving responses to the questions she'd ask. Lisa stared, quietly intrigued, at the both of us, her lips curling into a smile.

"Who is this? I didn't know you weren't anti-social, Ulquiorra," she mocked.

The Frenchwoman abruptly stopped talking at the sound of Lisa's voice. I rolled my eyes at her words.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lisa. Miss Inoue and I me at the tram stop… was it really two months ago? It feels like it was much longer," I contemplated.

"Yes, it has been two months! I am surprised to meet up with you in here! I was just roaming around and saw this bookstore, and so then I came here to check it out. What of you, Mr. Schiffer?" she asked politely.

"Ah, well, Lisa here is my, uh, proof-reader."

"You write, Mr. Schiffer?"

"For a hobby, nothing more," I clarified smoothly.

"You have a piece with you? May I also see?"

I hesitated for a second, then closed my eyes and handed the notebook to her. When the sound of turning pages reached my ears, I opened my eyes.

She looked very interested in the writing. "You have been writing in here for seven months?"

"Yes ma'am."

She made a noise of approval, flipping to the next page. After reading it, she laughed bitterly.

"These are… beautiful," she whispered, drops of Paris itself coating her words, almost beyond recognition. I stayed silent.

Lisa did not.

"You like? He has a website where he showcases most of them. Here's a business card."

Lisa swiped her hand under the counter and fished out a small green and black card, handing it to her.

"Thank you, Ms. eh, Lisa," she replied. "And thank you too, Mr. Schiffer. I-I… I really like them… a lot. I, eh… I should be going now!" she let out a nervous chuckle, backing up.

"It was nice seeing you both, and meeting you, Ms. Lisa… I hope to catch two of you sometime other—er, some other time! Goodbye!" she saluted, her English turning muddy, broken, and improper. The woman left the bookstore immediately, not lingering even a mere second later for Lisa and me to return the farewell.

"Wow, she was out of here fairly swiftly," Lisa mused. "Maybe the girl has a little crush, no?"

I scoffed.

"Of course not. We just met."

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><p>How was that for a chapter? It was basically just a follow-up on the characters so the readers know a bit more about them :))<br>REVIEWS ARE ENCOURAGING. Did you know that every morning I sign on before school to see if I got a review? :D


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